


Isn't It Romantic?

by A_bit_not_good_yeah



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-18 08:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bit_not_good_yeah/pseuds/A_bit_not_good_yeah
Summary: Richard has a thing for Jared, which is fine, totally manageable and not a problem at all - until strange things start happening. Things that only happen in romantic comedies. Things that are making Richard's not-a-problem into a big, big problem.Set between s5e03 and s5e04.





	1. Pretty Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the SV fandom, where I've been lurking for the past month. I hope you enjoy, and comments and feedback are much appreciated since I'm still new here!
> 
> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine; mea culpa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a brief mention of a fictional attempted assault in a movie (Pretty Woman). Oh, also spoilers for Pretty Woman if you haven't seen it.

It starts on movie night. Well. Not _starts_. Richard’s not so unaware as that. What _started_ years ago was a fondness, an attraction, but he kept it contained. Manageable. It was a distraction, a flight of fancy, really. Nothing to start, because it was nothing he hadn’t already dealt with and pushed aside into deep dark storage, like one of the boxes mounted in the server farms at Maleant. So it’s settled - there’s absolutely nothing to start.

 

Instead, something _wakes_ on movie night.

 

Since Richard’s been staying at Jared’s condo, they’ve been doing this little ritual a lot, ordering takeout and watching whatever sounds good in the moment. Tonight, Jared got to pick because Richard forced him to actually use his turn rather than deferring to Richard’s preference for the seventh time in a row.

 

“You want to um. _Pretty Woman_ , huh? I’ve never actually seen it, so.” Richard tries to muster an expression of general good-naturedness about Jared’s pick that probably comes out more like a grimace than he intended.

 

“Oh, yes, it’s my absolute favorite - it really paints a stunningly romantic picture of the American dream, don’t you think?” Jared beams.

 

“It’s...this is still the one about the prostitute, right?” Richard asks, a bit bewildered.

 

“Sex worker, Richard, and yes it is, but it’s _so_ much more than that. Oh I can’t wait for you to see it!” He claps his hands and turns his sunny, isn’t-this-so- _fun_ grin on Richard and it’s. He’s just so. It shouldn’t even be _possible_ for someone to be this excited about a dumb rom com, but Richard feels one of those warm bubbles of fondness for Jared rise up from his stomach and pop somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs anyway. He shoves the feeling deep down, an unconscious reflex that he's performed hundreds of times, and settles in for the movie.

 

And the thing is. Well. _Pretty Woman_ is kind of good? Normally he would tune out, fiddle with his phone, during a movie like this but he told Jared they could watch it and he’s been trying really hard to not - well to not be an asshole, honestly. It still feels tenuous, their friendship. The invisible spectre of Hoolicon still hovers between them sometimes, and he just doesn’t want Jared to feel like he’s taken for granted. So he dutifully sips the tea Jared made him and watches the screen as Richard Gere and Julia Roberts fall in love and - wow - have sex a lot.

 

He can feel Jared’s eyes on him, watching his reactions through all the classic scenes - the necklace box snapping shut, the confrontation with the shop girls - and at first it’s a little annoying but then he starts to. Well, kind of get into it. Julia Roberts is just really charming and Richard Gere is so _dashing_ (he feels himself smile a little at that very Jared turn-of-phrase). Before he knows it, he’s leaning closer toward the tv because he’s like. Invested. And suddenly things just get really...intense. Like, when Richard Gere’s friend tries to assault Vivian, Richard squawks, “What the _fuck_!” and looks at Jared, hoping to see the same level of outrage he’s feeling because seriously, and. And instead, Jared just gives him this little half-shrug, like _what can you do?_ And that makes Richard simultaneously furious and kind of sick in a murderous ragey way he doesn’t really understand and _he thought this was supposed to be a comedy?_

 

But then Richard Gere is climbing the fire escape and Richard looks over at Jared to see him staring at the screen with rapt attention, his too-blue eyes shining overbright. He mouths the lines along with the actors - "So what happens after he climbed up the tower and rescues her?" “She rescues him right back.” Richard can’t stop watching him and as the credits roll Jared shakes himself out of his reverie with a smile, turning to Richard as a tear starts to track down his cheek.

 

“What did you think?”

 

“Yeah it was. Really good, actually.” He can’t quite make eye contact as he says it, in the face of Jared’s naked display of emotion. It feels like he walked in on him masturbating or something, like he violated this really personal, vulnerable moment, but Jared seems completely unfazed.

 

“Oh, I’m so pleased! Maybe next week we can do _Mystic Pizza_ and make our OWN pizzas - there’s a new gluten-free crust recipe I’ve been dying to try, and I can get those sun-dried tomatoes you like. We’ll make our way through the rest of Ms. Roberts’ oeuvre in no time!”

 

“Um, sure. Sounds - sounds good.” He makes eye contact with Jared then, and feels a tiny jolt in his stomach at the look of pure adoration in those blue, _so fucking blue_ , eyes. Normally, that level of attention, that too-muchness Jared specializes in, makes Richard feel overwhelmed, a little panicky and like his skin is too tight, but tonight he lets himself actually take it in, and it just feels. Nice. Warm. Like in a just baked cookies kind of way which is - why the fuck is he thinking about goddamn cookies, like like Jared is some _Leave It To Beaver_ mom that's.

 

Ok, well. He kind of is. He has a very mom-like energy. But not a mom, no, just so patient and kind and with those giant, warm _hands_ but that is to say in a, in a biz dev way, a totally normal helpful way, not like he’s gonna come out in a frilly apron and say “How was school today honey?” way although honestly he'd probably look kind of good in an apron...what the fuck Richard where did - where the fuck did that come from?

 

And are you still.

 

Oh god you’re still staring at him.

 

Look away.

 

Look AWAY for god’s sake or just say something.

 

Anything.

 

NOW.

 

With a mumbled, “Ok, well, goodnight Jared,” he hurries off to Jared’s bedroom and shuts the door.

 

“Goodnight, Richard. Love you!” He hears muffled through the door and makes a little strangled squawk of a noise. _Every time_ , he thinks, cursing and flushing at the graceless way he reacts when Jared says those words, like-like he’s a kid that Jared’s dropping off at school. It doesn’t help the tangled knot of...something...in his stomach that he doesn’t have a name for, but which has been mutinously growing bigger and more knotted with each passing day of this living situation with Jared.

 

After an hour of lying awake reciting prime numbers, Richard finally falls asleep. He dreams about fire escapes.


	2. Scrooged

The next day is like any other, in the sense that Pied Piper is on the verge of a catastrophe. Some fucking dipshit developer was threatening to sue over some fucking thing and it was probably going to be nothing or maybe everything and it would either be solved through sheer incompetence on the part of their enemies or sheer incompetence on Richard’s part but right now it was NOT solved and Richard could feel a stress migraine coming on which means he’s probably going to puke in front of everyone again because he still doesn’t have a modesty panel on his stupid desk and, as if he summoned him with like, the power of his thoughts, Jared is there gently knocking on his door, holding a stack of papers. 

 

“I was wondering if you had a moment to go over these contracts Ron just sent ov--oops!” Jared trips slightly over an extension cord left haphazardly on the floor from the workmen fixing Richard’s office window. The papers he’s holding fly out of his hands and flutter messily to the floor while Richard gets up from his desk to make sure Jared doesn’t fall.  

 

“Shit, are you ok--” Richard’s awkwardly bending forward to maybe catch Jared or catch the papers, but Jared rights himself quickly.

 

“Oh, what a stumblebum I am today! Let me just--” They both bend down at the same time to pick up the strewn contracts and THWOCK! They smack heads in a truly bone-shaking collision. 

 

Jared’s hands fly to his own head as he cries, “Richard! Are you alright?” and Richard is wincing and squinting up at Jared while he rubs his forehead and Jared looks like he might keel over at the thought that he hurt, that he could have possibly  _ concussed  _ his  _ Captain _ so Richard says, “‘M fine, Jared, are YOU ok?” and reaches out his other hand without thinking, gently swiping his thumb over the growing bump on Jared’s forehead. 

 

Jared stills immediately, his eyes growing wide. Richard’s brain, clearly made of scrambled eggs now, catches up to what his hand is doing about 3 seconds too late and he pulls back immediately, as if scalded. “I-I’m fine. Like I said. Just um. We should both probably get some ice, I’ll just -” and he leaves Jared to pick up the papers while he bustles past him to run to the kitchen.

 

“Are you giving out head injuries now if we don’t finish modules on time? Because I think that would do a lot to boost team morale around here,” Gilfoyle says, sipping coffee from his DRINK COFFEE HAIL SATAN mug by the kitchen sink. “Well, maybe just my morale.” 

 

Richard fumbles around the shelves and shelves of brightly-colored organic snack food packages trying to find a towel or something to put ice in and gives Gilfoyle a glare until he finds what he’s looking for. He snatches the towel with a Pied Piper logo on it - wait, they have those? Huh. Nice touch - into his fist with a triumphant “HaHA!” that makes the rest of the coders stop typing and stare at him. Gilfoyle blinks at him and goes back to his desk, no longer interested in the proceedings.

 

Whatever. This is not the weirdest thing his employees have ever seen him do. He loads up the towel with ice and grabs a second one to repeat the process. When he turns around to head back to his office, Jared is standing directly in front of him wringing his hands. Richard startles but manages to keep hold of the ice packs as he yelps a little. "Shit! Sorry, sorry -"

 

Jared plucks the towel from Richard's hand with deft fingers that feel warm, so warm. "Thank you, Richard," he says softly, with that little demure half smile that feels like a secret between them. “Are you concussed?”

 

“Am I - ? Um, I don’t. I mean probably uh. Not.” Richard offers a nervous little giggle. Jared places one hand on Richard’s shoulder and leans down to him so their faces are level. It feels like the air has been sucked out of his lungs, and, frozen in place, Richard manages to half-whisper, “Wh - what are you doing?”

 

Jared smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket, turning the flashlight on. “I’m just going to check your pupils, if that’s ok.” 

 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah ok.”

 

He shines the light in each eye, and Richard blinks at the brightness. Jared’s hand is still on his shoulder, anchoring him in place.  _ It shouldn’t be allowed for his hands to be so big,  _ Richard thinks wildly.  _ There should be a statute, a proviso. Someone should be enforcing something.  _

 

Jared straightens up and removes his hand from Richard’s shoulder. It takes an effort for Richard not to make a noise at the loss of contact and he knows he’s twisting and biting his lips in a way that must look grotesque. “Well, everything looks normal - any dizziness? Weakness or numbness?” 

 

“No,” Richard shakes his head. “What about you?”

 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared laughs him off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about me. As my uncle used to say, ‘if you’re still talking, you can keep walking!’ But I would like to stay and monitor you for the next 30 minutes to ensure there are no lasting effects.”

 

Richard blinks again, but nods, and they work side-by-side in his office the rest of the day without incident.


	3. It Happened One Night

They go back to a normal routine with no other weird injuries or charming sex worker movies, and Richard starts to think maybe whatever’s going on with him is just a reaction to stress, or an allergy or something. He’s never been great at processing his emotions or dealing with anxiety and this thing, which isn’t even a THING, it’s barely a NOTION, couldn’t even be classified as an INKLING - this Non-Inkling he has towards Jared is just because of stress and close living quarters. It’s temporary, is what it is, and it will go away just like the night sweats did if he just doesn’t  _ think  _ so much, so they’re going to have a nice, normal, boring night in eating takeout and watching something about birds, and it will be so perfectly regular that Richard won’t even remember whatever the definitely-not-a-notion even felt like. 

 

“Did you see they opened another bakery downstairs?” Richard asks as he begins to unload the takeout cartons onto the counter.

 

“Bake It Happen? Yes, I ran into the manager as I was getting the mail. A lovely woman named Natasha. She’s also interested in the ornithological arts! I told her to come to one of the meetups of The Founding Feathers if she has a free weekend.” Jared takes the mostly empty bag from Richard’s hand and plucks out the chopsticks and soy sauce while Richard busies himself getting plates.

 

“No, I think this one’s called Tier de Force? But that’s like, the third one this month. That’s weird, right?” He plates Jared’s veggie stir fry and hands it to him, licking some brown sauce off his thumb before he continues. “Should we be recruiting developers of, I dunno...cake-based apps? For the network?”

 

Jared considers the question thoughtfully as they take their plates over to the couch to eat, but after taking a bite of broccoli he shakes his head. “I can pull some numbers, of course, but I think this is probably a fluke. A flash in the  _ cake  _ pan, one might say.” 

 

Richard lets out an undignified snort/giggle hybrid, surprising himself almost as much as Jared, who coughs and drops the chunk of tofu he had just picked up. The fried chunk dripping in brown sauce lands directly on Jared’s starched Oxford shirt and rolls all the way down from his chest to his stomach before plopping unceremoniously on the carpet. “Darn your butterfingers, Donald!” he curses quietly to himself while Richard splutters, “Shit - I’m sorry, d’you - should I um--” and hops up to run and get a towel from the bathroom.

 

“I didn’t know which one would be better, if you had like, nicer towels for uh..” ( _ all the women you fuck _ ) “--guests?” Richard says, wincing as he tries to repress the very vivid memory of women’s laughter coming from this very room. “So yeah, I just grabbed a coup--”

 

As he rounds the corner into the living room, he spots Jared in the kitchen, standing at the sink. Shirtless. 

 

With no shirt on. 

 

He  _ had _ a shirt on, but now it was off. 

 

And that’s not something Richard had ever - ok, hadn’t  _ ever  _ might be a strong statement - but now the reality of it is right in front of him. Jared is all smooth, pale angles and soft, slightly concave planes as he rinses his shirt in the sink and scrubs at it with a little scrubby brush that he probably bought just to remove stains from shirts because Jared is someone who is prepared and competent, and he’s just covered in  _ miles of skin _ . 

 

There’s an indent, the sweetest little depression stamped into his chest that shifts and bunches as he scrubs, and Richard has the wild urge to come up beside Jared and run his thumb over the soft curve there. As if it were a doorway he could open, to see inside. 

 

Instead of doing that he stands in the living room, blinking rapidly and gaping because there are things he is capable of processing and things he is not, and a half-naked Jared Dunn falls into the latter category.

 

“Richard?” Jared shuts the water off and Richard is still standing open-mouthed and that’s weird, right, that’s a weird thing to be doing, so he shuts his mouth hard and winces as his teeth click. 

 

“Richard, are you alright? Your noodles didn’t have cilantro in them, did they?” He’s drying his hands, coming over to Richard, seemingly unaware of the complete system shutdown he’s causing with his too-thin, angular, perfect  _ everything _ right now. He’s too concerned about Richard to even consider - to even  _ realize  _ what’s happening but what the fuck IS happening? Guys are shirtless around each other all the time, like in that sport, that one sport, any sport, and it’s not a big deal, it’s not - 

 

“Richard, I read the nutritional info online very carefully to make sure--do you need to vomit?”

 

“What? No. Maybe, I - I.” Words are impossible, incomputable, how is there room in the world for words when his brain is trying to calculate the exact slope of the sharp line of Jared’s collarbones. Now Jared’s right in front of him and looking at him with those little twin wrinkles of concern between his eyebrows and that feels familiar enough that Richard is able to swallow thickly and reboot his brain back into safe mode. 

 

“I’m fine, Jared, I just um. Yeah, I think I just don’t feel great, I’m gonna uh- I’m just gonna go lay down. I’ll - I’ll catch you on the, on the flippity flip,” he says, lips tightening into a scowl as he hurries away into the bedroom because the only thing more embarrassing than that exit line is having a fucking full-blown gay crisis at the age of 31 about the kindest, most supportive man on the entire planet. After rejecting him (gently, so gently,  _ “oh Richard, my Captain, what an honor it would be to receive your most intimate favor if I only could, but the love I feel for you is more like the flowers towards the morning dew,”  _ and he might even cry and Richard hates it when Jared cries because it feels like the sun going out, like a solar eclipse when the light is still there but dimmed), Jared would probably help him create a Grindr account and set him up on dates with eligible Palo Alto bachelors by cross-checking them against a seven-step ranking system of his devising. 

 

Richard crawls into bed and tries not to vomit for real.


	4. Roxanne

When he wakes up the next day, he opens the bedroom door tentatively, bracing himself for an awkward morning with Jared after acting like such a spaz the night before. But the living room is empty, the couch back in its non-pullout position. He wanders into the kitchen and stares accusingly at the little scrubby brush, drying in a small plastic cubby with holes in the bottom and taunting him with its ethically-sourced bamboo bristles. _Et tu, scrubby brush?_ Grimacing, he pulls out a mug for coffee, slamming the cabinet just a little too hard. 

 

There’s a post-it note next to the coffee maker in Jared’s small, tidy handwriting - _Went to Whole Foods for some ginger root tea to settle your stomach. Back in a jiffy! :) --Jared Dunn_

 

Richard picks up the post-it and feels the Non-Inkling knot in his stomach twist a little tighter. He signs his fucking post-it notes with his full name - who does that? 

 

“Jared does that,” he sighs to himself, and decides to skip coffee in favor of a shower instead. 

 

The hot water helps ease some of the tension (and ok, possibly also jerking off in the shower helped too, but he kept his mind totally blank and did not think about anything AT ALL, just friction and heat and the sound of the water and ok yes _maybe_ uncapping the bottle of Jared’s body wash and smelling that smell is what pushed him over the edge, but smells are not proprietary and a smell is not a person so he didn’t do anything wrong). 

 

When Richard steps out of the shower, he hears a loud banging on the front door of the condo. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps cautiously into the living room, and the banging continues. “H - Hello?” he calls. There’s no answer, but two more dull, thudding booms on the door. Clutching the towel to his waist, he creeps forward slowly and looks through the peephole but there’s no one there. Frowning, he opens the door slightly and sees a large package sitting in the middle of the hall, addressed to Jared. He’d mentioned something about trying out a new organizational system for his pantry, and this was probably the shelves or whatever he’d ordered in a pique of excitement the night before last. It had been unfairly adorable.

 

“Fucking mailman,” he mutters, and steps out to pick up the bulky box, taking care to hold the door open with one foot, but as he stretches his arms out to the package, he feels a tug from behind him that causes him to stumble forward a little. Richard realizes too late that his towel has caught on something in the door jamb. 

 

“Wait, no no nononoNONO--” he turns to watch in slow-motion horror as the towel slithers away from his body, hanging limply against the door frame. The heavy metal security door of the condo slams shut, trapping the towel and locking him out.

 

Locking him out with no keys, no phone, and no clothes. 

 

He jiggles the handle but it is solid and immovable. “Fuck fuck FUCK,” he shouts, then claps his hands over his mouth because he really doesn’t want to wake up the neighbors, oh SHIT the neighbors, and then he claps his hands over his dick instead. 

 

He’s frantically looking around for something to cover himself but no one even has a doormat because of some bullshit HOA rules about keeping the hallway clear or something, and he’s just about to attempt to pull a giant potted ficus out of its soil when he hears the ding of the elevator from behind him and spins around in a panic.

 

“Richard?”

 

Jared’s eyes are as wide as Richard has ever seen them, and he drops the Whole Foods bag he was holding. 

 

“Jared, I - you got a package and I just, my - my towel--the door locked.” Richard is blushing furiously, he knows he is, his whole body feels like he’s fucking sunburned he’s so hot and embarrassed. He looks up from under his lashes at Jared, expecting him to be in mother hen mode, springing into action and tsking at Richard for his carelessness, but instead Jared’s just standing stock still in the hallway with one of his hands lightly touching his throat and his eyes moving up and down Richard, inspecting and cataloguing every flaw, every deficiency. It makes Richard burn even hotter, not just to be locked out naked but for Jared of all people to SEE - this is Hell, clearly, this is actual Gay Hell like all the street preachers yelled about on corners when he and Big Head went on a campus tour at OU, this is the fire and brimstone - and Jared’s wide blue eyes are staring at him, raking over him, and he can _feel it_ , can feel that laser-blue gaze roving over his stupid, clumsy body like a magnifying glass frying an ant in the sun. 

 

“Could you um, unlock the door?” Richard asks, his eyes on the ground and his face burning, burning as he shifts from foot to foot, keeping his dick covered with his hands.

 

“Oh! Yes - yes, of course, Richard, I’m sorry - “ Jared rushes forward and Richard takes a stumbling step back to get out of the way. The keys jingle as Jared tries once, twice, three times to insert the right one into the lock; his hands are trembling. The tips of his ears are the loveliest shade of pink, and he must be so embarrassed for Richard because Richard can hear his breath speeding up, coming out fast and shallow. 

 

Jared pushes the door open and unsnags the towel from where it’s caught, handing it to Richard while averting his gaze. Richard snatches it away and covers himself quickly, scurrying past Jared into the apartment.

 

“Thanks, I’ll just - I’m gonna - “ he runs back to the bedroom and slams the door shut behind him. 

 

He’s stumbling around, trying to get all his clothes onto his humiliated body as quickly as possible when after a minute or so there’s a soft knock on the door. Jared’s muffled voice seems hesitant, seeking permission. “Richard? I hope you’re not emb--”

 

“NO, that’s - thank you, Jared, that’s fine, I’ll just - I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

“It’s really alright, Richard,” Jared softly coaxes through the door. “I myself once had to fashion a pair of trousers out of day-old newspapers and fishing line when my aunt accidentally sold all my clothing. And I didn’t...if you’re concerned, I didn’t _see_ anything--”

 

“ _OKAY_ , JARED,” Richard cuts him off as he flings the door open. “Jesus, just, just, can we drop it? Let’s just go to work and forget about it, okay?”

 

They don’t speak any more on the car ride into the office. Hours of morning meetings keep them both focused on strictly business, and they stay out of each other’s way when they do cross paths. When Richard gets back to his desk after his last meeting of the day, he sees the box of ginger root tea sitting in the middle of his desk with a post-it note on top. 

 

_I’m having drinks with a friend tonight and won’t be back to the condo until late. See you tomorrow. --Jared Dunn_

 

Richard stares at the post-it for awhile before pulling out his phone and texting Big Head to see if he’s free tonight. 


	5. 10 Things I Hate About You

“Thanks for coming out, man, I really - I really needed someone to talk to.” Richard is twitchy and sullen, eyes darting around the interior of the bar as if he’s checking for spies. No spies here, though, just craft beers and a sea of mid-level startup guys swarming to hit on the group of three women at the bar. Richard hates places like this, exposed brick and metal and unironic use of the word “gastropub” but Big Head suggested it, and it was close to home.  _ Jared’s place, _ he corrects himself,  _ not home. _ Right. Fuck. He runs a hand over his face and stares at his oldest friend, hoping to see something about his life that he recognizes, that makes sense. 

 

Big Head places a beer in front of Richard and settles back into the booth with a tall glass of soda. “It’s no problem, I honestly have tons of free time, dude. I’m not even sure what I did today. I mostly just hang out with the tiki head.” 

 

Richard gives a nervous little nod and then takes a too-big gulp of his beer, wincing as some dribbles down his chin. 

 

“So, what’s up, man? Is something going on with Pied Piper?”

 

“No - I mean, yeah, always but - no it’s not a-about Pied Piper, I’m. Well the thing is -” he fiddles with the napkin in front of him, tearing it to shreds. “The thing is, I’ve been -”

 

“Hey, do you want some nachos?” Big Head is reading the laminated menu and signalling to the waitress.

 

“What? No, I’m fine. What I was saying is--”

 

“Are you sure? They’re really good here.”

 

“No, I was in the middle of telling--”

 

Big Head continues as if Richard hasn't said anything, “They have fresh guacamole and everything, we could get chicken, or would you rather have beef? Because I could really go either--”

 

“No, Big Head, I don’t want fucking nachos, I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with Jared, that I’m fucking  _ gay _ for  _ Jared _ and I don’t know what to do about it!”

 

The waitress who is now standing by their table is looking at them with unblinking eyes. “Emma,” her name tag reads. She pastes on a plastic, customer-service smile. 

 

“I’ll just give you a few more minutes with the menus.”

 

As Emma hurries away, Richard crosses his arms on the table and buries his face in them. He can hear Big Head take a long, slow drink and put his glass back down on the table.

 

“So you’re in love with Jared? That’s cool. Does he know?”

 

Richard’s head snaps up. “Of course he doesn’t know! Are you kidding me? What the fuck am I supposed to say to him? ‘Oh hey, Jared, thanks for being such an integral part of Pied Piper and my new COO, did you know that I can’t stop thinking about you and your wrists and I think we should - should -’“ His hands twist into an ill-executed obscene gesture and he feels his face heat up. “It’s fucking impossible! Not only is it like, a huge HR violation because I’m his fucking boss, but also it’s - it’s, I mean he’s not. He -  _ he fucks. _ Women.” 

 

Big Head purses his lips and nods a little. “Yeah, but you have too. I mean, a few. Didn't he go to Vassar?"

 

"Yeah," Richard replies with a frown. "So?"

 

Big Head gives a  _ there you have it _ shrug. Then he frowns, "Why his wrists?”

 

“They’re very...expressive.” Richard shakes his head to clear it, “Look, it doesn’t matter, he’s not - it’s not like that. With me. He doesn’t, I know he doesn’t look at MY wrists and think about...and all these really  _ weird _ things keep happening between us because I can’t just untangle this, this knot inside me and I mean what am I supposed to do? He saw me  _ naked, _ ” he hisses between clenched teeth. 

 

“Why were you naked?”

 

“There was a, um, towel. Incident.” Richard tugs at his hair, leaving it even more unruly than usual. “That’s - the important thing is, it’s driving me  _ crazy _ , just being around him it - it feels like I’m gonna combust.”

 

“I’ve seen you naked.”

 

“Not the point! And eighth grade gym is not the same!” Richard’s eyes are almost bugging out, but Big Head just stares back at him calmly, drinking his soda. With the way this conversation is going, Richard’s going to combust right here in this shitty bar. 

 

“Well, but we’re still friends, right? Listen, man, I think you should just talk to him. Jared’s like...a really nice guy. He follows you around everywhere and he’s always doing cool stuff for you. You guys spend like, all your time together. You’ve been through a lot of shit getting Pied Piper off the ground and he’s stuck around through all of that. I bet he’d stick around through this too.” 

 

Richard stares at him, chewing his bottom lip and thinking, but Big Head doesn’t notice. He raises two fingers and calls, “Hey, could we get an order of chicken nachos over here?”


	6. Bridget Jones's Diary

Richard’s at the bar, waiting for Emma to finish running his tab and praying that none of the brogrammer assholes who are crowding up to order microbrews are going to talk to him. Big Head’s already left and he just wants to get his card, get in an Uber, and go back to Jared’s to crawl into a soft, dark space and forget this day ever happened. Big Head’s advice is rattling around in his head like a song he can’t get out, and his clothes are starting to feel like sandpaper against his skin. 

 

Of course by the time he makes it outside it’s now surge pricing and the closest driver is 10 minutes away. Fine. More time to sulk. 

 

_ Just talk to him. _ Because talking is so easy. One of Richard's best skill sets. Maybe it was his only option left, though. And Jared is - he'd be so understanding. Concerned, maybe, or or or disappointed, but not, he wouldn't call Richard a freak or shove him in a locker or any of the other horrible 80s teen movie cliches he could imagine. If Jared knew, he would just...he could be patient with Richard and give him space and that would help. Right? Right. Talking. He could tell him, he could, and it would be better. Tomorrow, when they see each other in person. Face-to-face meetings are always better.

 

Richard stares at his phone, then shoves it into his pocket in frustration. He’s considering just walking it, and is peering up the street when he sees a familiar navy blue sweater vest and aquiline profile in his periphery. Ducking behind a street lamp, he peeks out to get a better look and yep - there’s Jared, walking with a gorgeous brunette woman who’s almost his height in her sensible heels. They’re going into a tapas place across the street, just a few doors down from Richard’s vantage point. Jared’s enormous hand is on the small of her back as he opens the door for her, and Richard can almost feel the touch on his own skin like a brand. Without thinking, he darts out into the street, narrowly avoiding a Prius, and crosses to get a better look. 

 

_ Drinks with a friend, _ his brain sneers. Sweat is pricking out across his forehead and the back of his neck. Ignoring the hammering of his heart, he creeps closer to the front window of the restaurant, trying to avoid being spotted by Jared and his  _ (date) _ friend. There’s a long, narrow reclaimed wood plank acting as a standing bar up against the interior window, and people enjoying cocktails are clustered in groups of twos and threes around it, shielding Richard from view. He bends at waist level, ducking to avoid detection, and tries to see between bodies to look at the long curving bar inside where he spots Jared and The Woman in profile. 

 

She’s even lovelier in the low light of the restaurant, with a wide smile and warm eyes that crinkle as she laughs at something Jared said. They’re leaning close together - it’s probably loud in there - and she places a hand on his arm. Jared looks relaxed, happy. He’s smiling that smile he gets when he’s describing a new specimen he got to record in his birding diary or when there’s a sale on chia seeds at Whole Foods. Richard loves that smile. His gut clenches and he makes a low, pained sound, clutching at his middle. 

 

“What are you doing?” a loud woman’s voice asks from behind him. 

 

Richard spins around in his weird half-crouch. “What? Oh - “ 

 

He sees a woman with her phone out, warily watching him and holding tight to the arm of her very large boyfriend. “Are you jerking off? Jesus, are you stalking someone?”

 

“What? N-no,” Richard stammers, straightening up, then ducking again because he doesn’t want Jared to see him. This doesn’t do him any favors with the woman. “No, my - my friend is - I was looking for -”

 

“I’m calling the cops.” She makes a show of dialing her phone where Richard can see. He begins to walk backwards, still crouching, trying to get away but stay out of sight. 

 

“No, I’m - I’m going, don’t,” he pleads, turning to flee and promptly tripping over a bike. He lands in a tangled heap on the sidewalk. 

 

_ Great,  _ he thinks.  _ At least you didn’t make a scene.  _

 

He gets to his feet with a groan, examining his scraped palms with dismay. Hobbling, he walks the few blocks back to Jared’s condo. With each step, his mood darkens. There's no way he can tell Jared about his feelings now. Not when he's off...cavorting with some scarlet woman. And why would he lie to Richard about what was so clearly a date? What, like Richard can’t handle the truth that Jared’s life doesn’t actually revolve around him? Like he’s, like he’s some kind of child that has to be protected from harsh reality? And if Jared is hiding this from him, Richard realizes with an anger that burns through him in a flash, what  _ else  _ is he hiding? How can he trust him with Pied Piper, with ANYTHING, if he can’t trust him to tell the truth about this woman he’s so clearly in love with, so, so  _ devoted to, _ that he won’t even allow her to be fucking  _ besmirched  _ by Richard, to be ruined by Richard’s demanding, petulant presence. 

 

WIth a start he realizes he’s in front of the door to Jared’s condo, his fist clenched tightly around his keys to the point of pain. He lets himself in and then stands in the middle of the living room, at a loss. He’s too keyed up to sleep, and the idea of spending even one more night in Jared’s bed, a bed where he and The Woman will probably...the churn of his stomach decides his next steps for him, and he runs to the bathroom.


	7. Love Actually

Richard wakes with a sudden intake of breath at the sound of the front door opening and shutting. He wasn’t aware he’d fallen asleep on Jared’s couch, head tipped back and mouth open, waiting up all night in the living room to confront him about his, his “friend” and their “drinks.” Looking around wild-eyed, it takes him a moment to remember where he is and why he’s not in his  _ (Jared’s) _ bed, and why Jared is standing in the entryway with that confused puppy look on his face and why bright morning sunshine is streaming through the windows. 

 

“Richard? What are you doing out here? Was there something wrong with the bed?”

 

“Morning,” Richard says, but it comes out thick and sleep-fogged.

 

“Good morning,” Jared says brightly but the smile slides off his face as Richard shakes his head violently.

 

“Not - not night, you were - it’s  _ morning,  _ Jared, and you never came home. Where were you?” 

 

Richard’s gotten pretty good at reading Jared’s many trying-to-keep-control-of-the-situation expressions, and right now he sees the way Jared’s eyebrows are knitting and the corners of his mouth are turning down while his eyes grow wide. He’s confused, and a little embarrassed and when he makes eye contact with Richard, he actually  _ blushes, _ his gaze falling to the floor. That’s all it takes - in an instant Richard sees it, he sees it all: Jared and that woman kissing, Jared and that woman tripping into her apartment, tugging at each other’s clothes, Jared with his hands buried in that woman’s hair while she hollows her cheeks around his cock, Jared  _ fucking  _ that woman. The sudden onslaught of images burns through his body like lighting. He leaps up off the couch, surprising them both, and he says through gritted teeth, “Where  _ were  _ you, Jared?”

 

When he speaks, Jared’s voice comes out slowly and carefully. “I went to have drinks with my friend Laura. I left you a note--”

 

“Yeah, I got it,” Richard spits, and takes a step closer.  “And it said that you’d be out late, not at all hours of the night like some - some  _ longshoreman. _ ” Richard blinks rapidly and leans into Jared’s space. “What could you possibly have been doing all that time, Jared, hmm? Did you show her all your moves, pull out all your best techniques? Did you have a  _ great fucking time  _ with your  _ friend? _ ” He launches the word like a dart and Jared takes a step back as if it’s hit a bullseye.

 

“Richard, forgive me if I’ve upset you, that was never my intention. I also texted you to let you know that I’d be staying the night.” 

 

“What? When did-?” Richard digs his phone out of his pocket, and it’s dead. “Well. I didn’t get it. And besides, that’s not, the, the, the point, Jared, what if something had happened, did you even think about that? What if I needed you, or there was an, an emergency with Pied Piper? You’re supposed to be  _ here, _ ” he hisses.

 

Jared looks down at his hands, abashed, and Richard feels a dark surge of triumph. It feels ugly but satisfying, like digging a thumb into a bruise. But then Jared meets his eyes and the confusion and hurt he sees staring back at him makes Richard deflate a little. It makes him want to throw up a little, actually.

 

Jared holds his hands up in front of him, placating, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “Laura was in town for an academic conference and I haven’t seen her since we were at Vassar, so we arranged to meet and catch up - she offered to let me take the second bed in her hotel room and I agreed because we wanted to keep talking. I had so much to tell her, about you, about Pied Piper, and we sang together, Richard, she was in the Notes with me and we just...we sang together," he gusts out a shaky breath, "and my therapist says I shouldn't feel guilty for fostering non-work connections. Please, Richard, you know that if you had called, I would have...” he breaks off, his palms pressed together primly. He does that when he's upset, when he's trying to mold himself into what Richard needs, when he is trying to be of service. It hurts Richard to look at.

 

Richard scrubs a hand over his face, then shoves his fists into his hoodie pockets. He feels wrung out and disgusted with himself. “It’s - you don’t have to explain, Jared, I’m sorry. That was - this is all on me, you didn’t do anything wrong or deserve...you didn't deserve that. Fuck, just, just forget I said any of that.”

 

Now Jared’s the one to step closer to Richard, narrowing the distance between them to something that feels dangerous. Intimate. “Forgive me for asking, Richard, but...can you tell me why you were so upset? You’ve...you’ve seemed so much more distracted and anxious lately. Did I do something wrong?  _ Did _ you need me for something?”

 

Richard looks up and finds Jared staring at him, searching his face. What a stupid question, as if Richard didn’t need Jared all the time - that was it, that was the fucking  _ problem, _ and it punches a bitter laugh from him. “Ha, no, I. Like I said, forget it, I’m glad you and Laura had a. A nice time. She looked like a nice person, and you should have - you deserve people in your life who are nice to you. Better to you. Than me, I mean.”

 

Jared’s head tilts slightly to the side in that endearingly birdlike way he has. “What do you mean ‘she looked like a nice person’?”

 

Richard’s eyes widen. “Uh, just, what - what you said about her just now, she sounds nice, she looks nice, it’s an expression of speech. Figure. Of speech.” His ears are growing hot. 

 

“Richard?" Those blue eyes. Undeniable. Gazing down at him in that  _ Jared way, _ that way that says  _ I don’t understand what you’re doing but I will follow you anywhere, let me in, let me fix it, let me help you and we can get through it together. _

 

“I saw you, ok?” Richard blurts, “I fucking saw you.” He’s fidgeting now, turning to pace in quick little strides as the words come pouring out of him. “I went out with Big Head and I saw you across the street and I followed you because - because you guys looked so goddamn perfect together, and she’s, she’s exactly the kind of person who deserves to have you because she’s beautiful and tall and she makes you laugh and smile your bird smile and she  _ wanted _ you to, she’s not an anxious freak, she was relaxed and happy and she let you touch her with those--”

 

Jared cuts him off by grabbing him by the bicep, urging him to settle into place so that they’re eye-to-eye again. 

 

“--H-hands,” Richard finishes, his mouth going suddenly, desperately dry.

 

“Richard,” Jared says in a wondering tone, “were you jealous?”

 

All Richard can do is stare up at Jared helplessly. His mind is coming apart at the seams, and his body, that riotous traitor, is focused only on the place where Jared’s massive hand easily encircles his arm, and if he feels this small and surrounded with that hand on his arm, just think of what it would feel like on his--

 

“Richard? Were you jealous of  _ me? _ Or,” Jared inhales shakily, “of  _ Laura? _ ” 

 

Jared’s hand is still gripping him tight and he can’t speak, he can’t think. When Richard licks his red, bitten lips, he watches Jared track the movement.  _ Please, _ he thinks hysterically and has no idea what he’s asking for. Heat is coming off of Jared’s body in waves, reflecting back between them, building and building and Richard feels feverish, out of his mind as he leans in just a little. His eyes keep darting to Jared’s mouth and back up, but Jared isn’t pulling away, he’s studying Richard’s face with rapt attention, open and waiting for  _ something, _ and maybe he could have this, maybe Jared would let him have this...

 

_ TWEEDLEE-DEEDLEE-DEET-TWEEDLEE-DEET-DEET!  _ The sound of Jared’s ringtone filling the air causes them both to jump apart as if scalded. Jared pulls his phone out of his pocket and frowns, “It’s Monica -- hello, Monica?” He puts his hand over the phone’s receiver, “She’s been calling you for an hour - she got worried.”

 

“What?” Richard fumbles for his phone, then sees its black screen again. “Oh, fuck, is - what’s wrong, is everything ok?” Then, panicked, “Am I still CEO?”

 

“I’m going to send him over to you in my car right now. Yes, I - absolutely, understood. Thank you, Monica.” Jared turns to Richard who is chewing on his bottom lip relentlessly. “Jian Yang is staging another attack against Pied Piper, trying to gain more equity.”

 

“That  _ fucking-- _ ”

 

“Take my car and go to Bream/Hall, Monica will explain. I’ll be right behind you.” 

 

The anger and panic pulsing through Richard spurs him to action without question. He grabs the car keys and bolts. The stereo is still playing, and normally Richard just turns off whatever Jared was listening to but he vaguely recognizes the song - he remembers his sister playing this album over and over again when they were in high school. Even though he doesn’t know the words, the singer’s mournful voice fits his current mood so he leaves it.

 

_ But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy _

_ Well I deserve nothing more than I get _

_ 'cause nothing I have is truly mine _

 

It’s not until he’s halfway to Bream/Hall that he realizes environmentally-conscious Jared would never have them take two cars unless he had a good reason. He was trying to put space between them. To get away from Richard. The cavernous empty space in the seat next to him feels like a warning, a reprisal.  _ You don’t get to have this. You don’t get to ruin him with your poisonous, clumsy touch.  _

 

Knuckles white on the steering wheel, Richard drives faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, is it even an early 2000s romantic comedy if Dido isn't playing somewhere?


	8. The Wedding Planner

“So he can’t actually do this, though, right?” 

 

“Yes, Richard,” Monica sighs, exasperated, “for the fifth time, our lawyers are handling it. Jian Yang has no legal recourse here, and I honestly think he was just showboating. Getting a rise out of you. I would have told you all this over the phone if you had just answered or called me back.”

 

Richard sits with his face in his hands in front of Monica’s desk, and he drags his hands down slowly so he can look Monica in the eye. “Yeah, well, I had a shitty night, so.” 

 

She eyes him with concern. “OK, what is going on with you? You look like shit. I assumed you were just working all night but you’re not usually so...” she waves a hand in his general direction so she doesn’t have to use words like  _ pathetic  _ or  _ homeless-looking. _

 

“It’s nothing,” Richard mumbles, curling back in on himself.

 

“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but just remember that even though your company is pretty stable right now, it doesn’t take much to put it in a very precarious position. So whatever it is that’s going on with you, figure it out. Talk to Jared.”

 

Richard’s head snaps up. “What? Why did you - did he say something to you?” 

 

Now Monica’s looking at him like he’s got two heads. “No? He’s your COO, isn’t he? His job is to support you, help the company run smoothly?”

 

“Right. Right.” 

 

Monica leans forward, lowers her voice. “Richard, I’m starting to get concerned. If the stress is getting to be too much, or if you need a break - look, there’s no shame in taking a step back for a second. Figure out what you need, what’s really important to you. This isn’t just your company, it’s your  _ life, _ you know? Let the other bullshit be handled by someone else just for a second. That’s what you’re paying them for.”

 

Richard nods weakly. “I um. Thanks, Monica, I have to -” he gets up, rushes out the door and heads to his favorite bathroom on the first floor, the one furthest from the elevator with the stall doors that go all the way to the floor. He locks himself in the stall furthest from the door (statistically the least used, according to a  _ Business Insider  _ article Jared sent him once) and kneels on the ground, pressing his cheek to the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. It’s quiet in here, tucked away from the bustling sounds of the office, and he wonders if he stayed here all day if anyone would miss him. He thinks they wouldn’t. 

 

_ Jared would, _ whispers a voice in his head and he groans. This is ridiculous. He’s acting like some lovesick teenager, too chickenshit to either own up to his feelings or deal with them. Dragging Jared down into his bullshit isn’t fair, not after everything he’s been through. He deserves better than Richard could ever give him. So he’ll just...he’ll just put some distance between them. Move out of Jared’s condo, first of all. And then maybe he’ll work from home for awhile. Keep all contact business only. Professional. 

 

He exhales slowly and unfolds himself from in front of the toilet. Now that his heartbeat has slowed, he thinks he can face the world again. This will be good. Moving forward. Regaining focus. Being a leader. He can do this!

 

He pushes the bathroom door open and sees Jared, folded like a paper crane into one of the armchairs in the tasteful waiting area of the lobby.

 

He can’t do this.

 

Jared spots him and gets up, and Richard makes a beeline for the front doors, trying to avoid him -  but, you know, like a professional. “Richard?” he hears Jared call after him as he pushes through the glass doors, momentarily blinded by the sun. 

 

That delay of a few seconds and Jared’s staggeringly long stride mean that Jared catches up to him just outside on the sidewalk near the bike rack. At least this time Richard had the presence of mind to avoid running into it. “Richard, I was calling for you. Is everything alright?”

 

“Oh, hey Jared, didn’t - didn’t see you there.” Richard’s teeth dig into his lower lip and he’s looking everywhere but at Jared.

 

“How did the meeting go? Monica said she explained everything.”

 

Richard nods vigorously, “Good, good. Yeah, it was um. Good.”

 

With a sunny smile and a little salute, Jared says, “It sounds like the threat is essentially neutralized, so we can carry on full steam ahead. We’ll get through this, Captain, don’t you worry about a thing.” And Richard can’t help but smile a little back because. Well. It’s just so very Jared. 

 

Jared seems to view the smile as an opening because he leans a bit closer to Richard and lowers his voice. “Now that that’s out of the way, I was hoping we could...revisit our discussion from earlier.” 

 

Richard blanches and darts a guilty glance up at Jared. “No, I don’t think - ah, that’s not necessary, we should really get to the office--”

 

“Richard, I don’t think this arrangement is tenable any more. You’re avoiding me, I’ve rarely seen you so anxious and distressed, and you’ve started biting your nails again. Now, I don’t want to presume, but I think I know what’s going on.”

 

“Please don’t, Jared, I can’t - not right now,” Richard grits out, turning on his heel to leave, go back to the car, and drive far far away from this conversation.

 

“We need to talk about this, Richard, before this hurts the company,” Jared pleads, but Richard keeps walking faster. “I’m sorry, Jared, I just - I can’t,” he calls behind him, turning his head to yell back at Jared as he starts to cross the street to where he’s parked. Jared’s right behind him and he hears him yell "Richard!" one more time to get his attention but Richard doesn’t listen, just says one last, “I’m sorry,” before turning his glance back to the street he’s just stepped into and--

 

A gust of wind envelops him, as if something has just passed him moving very quickly. He feels his body get yanked backward sharply, his feet leaving the ground, and strong arms are encircling him. The sky spins dizzyingly overhead and then Jared is pivoting him, he’s spinning in a tight turn and their bodies are pressed flush together. When Richard stops moving, Jared is leaning forward over him because his body is curved elegantly back into a dip with Jared’s arms around him and his face close enough to kiss. 

 

“Richard,” Jared breathes, “are you alright? That self-driving car nearly hit you and I thought - oh, Captain, I thought you were - that you could have been - ” his eyes flood with tears as he struggles to put into words what just almost happened. Richard’s brain can’t quite process quickly enough but he knows one thing - Jared rescued him. 

 

He could have died. 

 

Everything he’s built, everything he  _ is,  _ could have been so much strawberry jam on the pavement. But Jared rescued him. Again. 

 

They’re still frozen in position - Jared with one knee bent and the other leg braced behind him, leaning over Richard and supporting his weight with his lean, shockingly strong arms, and Richard with one knee bent back behind him and his other leg splayed out, his hands gripping Jared’s biceps. It’s like they’ve finished a 5-year-long tango and he almost just  _ died for fuck’s sake  _ and Jared is holding him, looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Richard takes a shaky breath.

 

“I’m - fucking - I’m in love with you, Jared.”

 

“What?” Jared gasps and drops him, and Richard tumbles backwards onto the sidewalk for the second time in as many days.

 

“Oh gosh! Richard, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, please, let me,” Jared drops to his knees to ensure Richard is okay and grabs his arm to help him stand, but Richard makes no move to get up. Instead he locks eyes with Jared, then stares down at where Jared is touching his arm. Jared stays kneeling on the sidewalk, unwilling to let Richard go. 

 

In a small, cracked voice, Richard says, “I fucked this up so bad. I know you don't feel the same way about me,” he continues in a rush, “not like...not the way I mean it, but you just. I couldn’t just - Jared, you’re like the best person I know and I understand why you want me to move out and I will. I just need you to know I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or feel weird, it’s just because I didn’t know how to tell you how I felt and I - I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m such a goddamn  _ idiot." _ The stinging in his eyes means that frustrated tears are on their way, and he screws his face up in anguish at this final humiliation. 

 

It takes him a moment to register Jared’s hand - Jared’s huge, enormous, absurd hand - is sliding up to cup Richard’s face, and then there is a brush of warm air across his cheek and soft lips pressing against his. Jared is kissing him, urgently, insistently,  _ skillfully, _ and Richard moans into it in shock and relief. It’s so much better,  _ Jared  _ is so much better than Richard had ever imagined, and he fists both hands into Jared’s fleece vest to haul him closer, to get more, to feel  _ everything. _

 

When they part, Jared sighs, “You’re not a gosh-darn idiot. You’re brilliant and perfect and oh, Richard, I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’ve told you so many times, so many ways, but I never dreamed, never allowed myself to hope...”

 

Dumbfounded, Richard asks, “You mean you - like,  _ love  _ love me? This whole time?”

 

Jared beams in that way that scrunches up his nose and there are tears in his eyes. “Yes, Richard, I love love you. Don’t you know by now that you’re my north star, my working week and my Sunday rest, my first robin of spring, my--well, you’re my Richard Hendricks.” He laughs, giddy, and shrugs helplessly as if to say  _ that’s all there is to it. _

 

“But we took two cars! And you - you said our arrangement wasn’t tenable,” Richard blinks, uncomprehending, distracted by his brain cataloguing each of the teeny tiny freckles he can see on Jared’s nose now that they’re so close. He wants to kiss each one. 

 

“I thought you were uncomfortable with our living arrangement interfering with my duties as COO. You know I would never do  _ anything  _ to the detriment of you or Pied Piper, so,” Jared ducks his head to avoid looking at Richard, “on the way over here I took the liberty of finding a few apartments you could afford and I set up some appointments for you to look at them. I was trying to find the right way to broach the subject when you--” Richard shuts him up by leaning forward and kissing him again, clumsily. 

 

“Will you, um. Cancel those?” He murmurs against Jared's mouth, then pulls back to look at him, panicked. “If that’s - I mean, is that ok with you?” 

 

“Aye-aye, sir," Jared grins and oh, that's unlocking a whole hidden cavern of possibilities inside him right now, glittering darkly like a hoard of dragon gold, and Richard kisses him again desperately. He can’t get enough now that he knows what it feels like to be kissed by Jared. His lips are so soft. He tastes like tea. Their noses bump and Jared licks at Richard's upper lip in a way that is making his toes curl, and everything feels warm and safe and quiet inside him in a way Richard can't remember ever feeling.

 

“Hey! Assholes! Clear the sidewalk!” They both turn to see a Seamless delivery guy making his way towards Bream/Hall and scramble apart to let him pass. Jared’s flushing a little and Richard runs a hand through his hair, scanning to see if anyone else saw them. 

 

“We should - “

 

“Go, yeah,” Richard says and digs in his pocket for the keys. He hands them to Jared and shivers when their fingers brush. 

 

They get up from the sidewalk - thankfully there are no other people out and about this late in the morning - and head towards Jared’s car. It feels unreal, dreamlike, to experience this life-changing axis tilt and just...go to work. Like nothing happened. Like there isn’t more kissing to be done. 

 

“Hey, Jared?” Richard stops as he opens the passenger door.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Maybe we could...work from home today?” 

 

“Yes,” Jared grins widely and Richard feels the knot in his stomach get neatly sliced in two, finally undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, commenting, and encouraging along the way, particularly the SV Squad. A special shout-out goes to Wife, who helped me talk through the ideas for this fic and has read every chapter even though she 1) has no interest in fandom stuff 2) has never watched SV and 3) has had to endure my all-encompassing obsession with these two idiots for months now. I love you, bee. 
> 
> Come shout at me in the comments about your favorite romantic comedies.


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